These dreams. Those goddamn dreams were what made unconsciousness so unbearable. It didn't matter if it was sleep that robbed you off your senses or the forced lack of control.

Memories, deeply hidden in the darkness of your mind, awoke. Memories that you had buried long ago in the hopes of never having to experience them again.

A heavy breath escaped your lips as Chris appeared before your eyes. Startled, you held your breath.

"Redfield.", you breathed.

He grinned.

That was not Chris.

You noticed immediately. At least not the Chris he had become after all those years.

This was the old Chris, young and still full of hope. He looked so thin, although at twenty he had already had broad shoulders and strong arms.

It was strange, but you found yourself missing his older self, the one with a beard and a few wrinkles on his face. He looked as marked by life as you felt.

You liked that about him. It made you feel closer to him than you wanted to admit.

"Hey!", Chris' voice was still the same. "Are you drunk already? We haven't had that much to drink yet, you said you're not a lightweight!"

He nudged you with his shoulder and handed you another glass, in which a clear liquid was sloshing.

Skeptically you frowned.

"What's this?", you took the glass and smelled it.

He laughed again, as if he couldn't believe that you had asked him that.

"Uh, vodka?", he sounded a little drunk, but still in his right mind.

You nodded.

"Right. Vodka."

His look changed and he seemed confused.

"We drank nothing else all evening. Why so unsatisfied with the options all of a sudden?"

He chugged down his drink and asked the waiter to bring him another by tapping the glass with two fingers.

You eyed the liquid in it for a moment before letting your eyes wander around.

You remembered this place. It had been a small bar in the middle of a huge city. Originally, the job had been an easy one. The team had been supposed to walk into a building, kill one single human and escort the other scientist into safety.

It must have been Russia. But the language sounded closer to Italien.

Or had it been China?

You couldn't quite remember. But you remembered how down you had felt that day. You remembered the loss that you and Chris have had to endure.

The mission had turned out to be a day that you would never forget. It had changed you. And Chris.

He had taken you out for drinks to drown the bitter taste of failure.

Why did you remember this now?

Shrugging, you threw your head back and swallowed the vodka in one go.

"Wow, easy...", Chris laughed. "You should enjoy it."

"Shut up.", you grinned and ordered another. "I want to get drunk tonight."

"You already are."

"No? Pff, I can do better than that, Redfield. Don't disrespect me like this."

A smirk appeared on his lips as he raised an eyebrow and looked at you from top to bottom.

"Bet?", he asked and called a waiter to the table.

Sceptical, you looked at Chris, studying his face for a moment. There was this strange shimmer in his eyes that told you that this was not a good idea.

He was challenging you, but only god knew what he had in mind.

"What's with that smirk, Redfield?", you asked and laughed, a bit afraid.

He leaned towards you.

"Bottle of vodka?", he asked in a sweet voice.

You frowned, smiling.

"We are two people."

"And?"

"We already had some."

"And?"

"Redfield.", you laughed. "Don't try your luck. You're not a cat with nine lives. We did not make it out of that building just for you to die due to alcohol poisoning."

The smirk on his face disappeared. He leaned back, visibly displeased with your answer, and frowned.

Back then you thought he looked disappointed but now that you were able to relive that night, you noticed that he was sad. It was only a small hint, a glimmer in his eyes, but he was sad.

He wanted to drown that sadness but he wasn't willing to do it by himself. However, your memories didn't change and you were not able to hug him as an apology.

But the scene played out just as it did back then.

A sigh left his lips as he let his head fall onto the table. His eyes closed and for a moment he seemed more drunk than he actually was.

You rolled your eyes, sighing as well.

"Fine.", your mouth said without permission. "Let's have a bottle."

The answer, that you had given him so many years ago, immediately caused a bitter taste on your tongue. It had not been clear back then, but this night had slowly dragged Chris into alcoholism.

And sometimes you still felt guilty that you had agreed to do this. If you had forced him to go back to the hotel that night, maybe he would have been spared the next years of suffering.

It broke your heart as your mind replayed how he ordered the bottle and took a big sip straight from it before he passed it onto you.

You heard yourself laughing, but it was only the memory. You did not feel like laughing. You felt like crying.

How had you been able to let Chris hurt himself like that?

Back then it had only been a night of drinking. Now you saw that it had been a cry for help.

You had ignored it. And all that only for your own safety.
You took the bottle, the spicy taste of vodka filled your mouth, mixed with the taste of smoke that stuck to Chris. He must have had a smoke shortly before.

A soft smile appeared on his face as you returned the bottle to him. For a moment, you two looked at each other.

The familiar feeling of your heart beating faster spread through your chest and you remembered how strangely shy you've had felt back then.

"Redfield...", you whispered and leaned forward.